“To die would be an awfully big adventure”
She was tired; it had been a long day. Comparatively speaking, the day had gone by as many others had, quickly in retrospect and slowly in the present. There was nothing particularly special about this day, in fact most of the details trailed out of her mind as she walked up the stairs, little wisps of moment floating away unbeknownst to her. She was too lost in the mind numbing fatigue the day had left her with, moving slowly as if weighted up the stairs. Going home of all things shouldn’t be this torturous but the only thing waiting for her at home is a microwavable meal, some paperwork, and the cheapest Ikea bed she could find.
Sighing she stepped into her dark apartment, absentmindedly flicking the switch and throwing her shoes off. Her apartment was small but well-kept with hardwood floors and clean cream color walls. She hated it; the neutrality of the color scheme only reinforced how utterly bland she felt her life was. Closing her eyes she slumped into a chair, willing the world to change, willing her life to change so that she wouldn’t have to get up at seven to go to work, to have lunch with Kerry at twelve thirty, to take the train back with Brian tomorrow and the day after and the next day and the next…
Surely there was something she was missing, either in herself or in her life. How did everybody else deal with such monotonous routine on a daily basis? What made them so much more unsusceptible to the incredibly overbearing, suffocating consistency of life? Were they immune to this parasitic mundane repetitive existence people called living?
Frustrated she pulled out her planner and chucked it at the wall. Routines, schedules and plans used to be her pillar, the one thing she could count on in the fast paced modern world. She could trust those little boxed dates and time slots, inserting her plans into them to manage her life. But recently it felt the other way around, she was no longer in charge of what went when or who where. It was like she was a robot, blindly following the commands of the all mighty calendar gods and their scheduling minions.
She didn’t at all imagine her life would be like this.
Where was the adventure, the fulfillment and the happy that so permeated all of society’s billboards—the ones that demanded instantaneous satisfaction, otherwise definite loneliness? Where was life and the living of it? Surely this could not be it.
She reached down to pull out her phone and as a true product of the smartphone dependent times, she googled “define: living.” As the page loaded she smirked at the irony. She just googled ‘living’! Either her issues with life were too shallow or she had more problems than she thought. The page loaded and she frowned at the results.
Poor definitions in her opinion. She had money enough to sustain the influx of oxygen and nutrients to her body, and the flow of wastes out but she would hardly call that living. To her, living was a verb and she was looking for instructions on how to do it. Instructions which, the almighty Google could not provide.
A disdainful expression spread across her face, quickly fading into annoyance as she absentmindedly let her cellphone slip from her fingers and fall to the floor. It landed hard, barely a bounce as if to prove to her just how much worth she let fall to the ground, but she only walked passed it. Forgetting already or perhaps not caring at all to begin with about the tiny electronic gadget, she headed to her balcony. The humid early evening air greeted her warmly; coating her while the slight island breeze welcomed her, coaxing her to the very corner of the metal barrier.
The city skyline was dark against the setting sun. A lone figure stood out apart on its edges, a proud blemish on an otherwise postcard worthy image. The figure perched carelessly, dangerously on the edge of a balcony, hands waving in the wind, playing with the breeze, taunting and teasing it to blow stronger. It was graceful the way she flirted with each passing gust, her whole body a sly smile against the hard corners of the apartment building, a smile that said, ‘If I fall, won’t you catch me?’
As if answering her question, the wind turned violent, rising to the challenge. The lone figure was tense for just a moment before embracing freedom from the ledge. Her limbs splayed wide, displaying complete trust in her fickle companion despite obvious evidence to the contrary. She fell four floors.